The Misadventures in Alexia-Sitting
by Kitty.M.Smith
Summary: Conall Maccon goes to Scotland for the weekend to assist his granddaughter with handling loners and leaves Lyall, Biffy, and Channing in charge of keeping his wife safe and happy. Hell ensues.
1. Lyall and the Loontwills

**So this takes place between Blameless and Heartless when Alexia was pregnant but they were still living at Woosley. Alexia is around 7ish months in this fanfic so she's pretty big.**

 **Please don't forget to favorite and review if you like the story! I'm posting both the Lyall and Channing chapters since they're done and posted elsewhere, and then the Biffy chapter will be posted upon completion (sometime before summer).**

 **I do not own the glorious characters, all of whom - except for those that can be recognized as not hers - belong to the wonderful Gail Carriger.**

 **I do own the story however; do not repost or anything elsewhere.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

"Gentlemen, I have a special assignment for you." Conall said to the three males before him; one about average in height and looks and dress - though his waistcoats could suggest a man with very good taste - another wearing the uniform of a soldier and a look that said he'd much rather be on a battlefield than in his Alpha's study, and the newly recruited dandy that had a name so utterly Spanish everyone just shortened it to Biffy. "I want you too ... Watch my wife while I am gone."

A childishly loud groan erupted from Channing as he tossed his head back. Biffy's cheek twitched. Professor Lyall made no reaction whatsoever.

Conall ignored Channing and continued, "I am going down to Scotland for the weekend. Sidheag sent me a letter asking for advice with dealing with loners. I've ... Got a feeling she's having more trouble than the letter tells. A lot of challenges - nothing she can't handle but I intend too help her nonetheless. So while I'm gone, you three are too make sure Alexia is happy and safe."

"This is bollocks," Channing muttered.

Conall's lip twitched. "You'll do as I say, Gamma. Now, I don't care what she bloody tells you too do, you do it. If I come back and hear she's displeased, it won't be good, and God help you if she is hurt. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." The three men said in unison. Conall nodded and stood, exiting. Soon as he was out of earshot, even for supernatural hearing, Channing kicked the leg of a nearby desk.

"Absolute bloody, twisted, bollocks!" He growled, looking to the professor and dandy. "Decides his bloody granddaughter can't handle a couple loners and leaves the pack, and puts us in charge of babysitting. It's ridiculous! I'm a soldier, not a nanny!"

"Well I'd hope not, not with that mouth." Biffy shook his head, tsking.

"It's only a few days, Channing." Lyall said dismissively, starting out the door. "What's the worse that could happen?"

* * *

Conall Maccon left early the next Friday night. He gave a kiss to his wife, a last look to the three wolves he'd left in charge of her every need, and then shifted and trotted off across the field from Woosley with a shoulder bag swinging under his belly.

"He best not get himself killed." Alexia said to herself, then went to the library to read. Not an hour later Rumpet walked into the house, Mister and Missus Loontwill trailing after him. Professor Lyall could smell Mrs. Loontwill's perfume from the second floor and made a face. It was a pleasant enough scent - a mixture of lilac and lavender with the slightest hint of mint the average nose probably didn't detect - but considering how strong it was to his nose all the way up in his room, it must have been frightening up close.

"Honestly, I thought the woman had a bit more class. Or at least a sense of smell." He huffed to Biffy. He and the young werewolf were going over some stray BUR paperwork that had been left over with their Alpha's rather sudden absence. Lyall had known he received a rather tired letter from Sidheag, but he hadn't predicted he would run off to help her. Typical, unpredictable Conall Maccon.

"At least she isn't soaked in jasmine." Biffy shook his head. "Had a woman come in the hat shop over a fortnight ago and I can still smell it. Doesn't seem to bother anyone else, but all the more reason for me to despise it."

"My sympathy, young Biffy." Lyall mumbled, looking over the registration paper of a new rove. He'd moved to Baker Street and only possessed three drones. Then again, that could be considered rather good for a rove.

"I thought her and the parents didn't get along?" Biffy pondered while halfheartedly reading a list of all the local loners. Lyall wondered why it would be in the pile of paperwork, but didn't question.

"They don't - and it's very obvious as too why. I have several reservations after meeting the mother myself. But she does visit once in a blue moon - though I suspect this is more an apology visit since Alexia was thrown out of the home last time she saw her and the step father."

"Oh." Biffy nodded, looking like he wanted to ask more too stave off the boredom of BUR paperwork, but refrained for the sake of propriety.

Luckily for young Biffy, a very loud yell of, "LYALL!" stopped the boredom in its tracks.

"Ooooh! This ought to be interesting!" Biffy perked up and stood.

"Heaven's above." Lyall sighed, pushed his spectacles up on his nose, and then went down the stairs with a curious wolf pup on his tail. He followed the sound of the screech to the receiving room where Alexia sat in a chair diagonal from her mother and Squire Loontwill, the latter of which was stuffing his face with as many deviled eggs and watercress sandwiches as was socially acceptable. Alexia looked flustered, Mrs. Loontwill annoyed, and Squire Loontwill like he really wished he wasn't there.

"Professor," Alexia started, her tone thin and very nearing the point in which her gestational hormones would hit overdrive and cause either a screaming fit or a crying spasm, "Please settle this most _ridiculous_ and _inappropriate_ conversation my mother _insists_ on continuing!"

"What is that, madam?" Lyall breathed in through his nose, immediately regretting so afterwards. Mrs. Loontwill's reeking perfume, which hadn't been more than unpleasant with her sitting in one place, punched his nose like a street fighter. It took all his control and willpower not to cough and sneeze, swallowing each dreadful gasp of the atrocious flowery odor. He almost didn't catch the hint of wine coming from Mrs. Loontwill as she breathed.

"I, well, I really don't want to say it. I'd wished she would have just taken my word for -"

"I refuse to believe a werewolf is any better at bedsport than any other gentleman. I don't care what the rags say, it simply can't be true." Mrs. Loontwill said outright. "Sure, some gentlemen are better than others," the Squire glanced her way, seeming to question if he was the better out of the two gentlemen she'd shared a bed with, "but that's simply that gentleman. A whole race - or species - or whatever a werewolf bloody is, can't be better simply because they're a werewolf."

Lyall had absolutely no idea how to respond to that.

Alexia looked up at him expectantly.

Did she know? He got the feeling she really didn't. He knew she suspected something, for whatever reason, but she wasn't sure. That would be the only reason she would call him down instead of Biffy in this sort of affair, too find out his preference. He quietly damned her while keeping a placid, blank face as he glanced from Alexia, her mother, and then to Biffy peeking around the corner of the doorway.

"I really would rather not participate in this, my Lady." He said evenly, carefully breathing in through scarcely open lips to avoid sniffing up anymore of Mrs. Loontwill's perfume. It was already giving him a headache.

"Well, I need someone to settle this dispute, and Biffy isn't about, so the beta is the next best thing."

Lyall blinked and looked behind him. Biffy had disappeared. _Little rodent._ "I, well, my lady -"

"Just answer, Professor." Alexia snapped at him in the most ladylike fashion possible. He could hear her shoe lightly tapping on the rug, just enough for him to hear. She was on the brink of a yelling fit, and Lyall certainly didn't want a bad report with Conall Maccon, so he gave the rather desperate response of;

"Yes, madam, the rumors are very true concerning a werewolves ability in, erm, that particular sport."

"See! I told you, Mama. Why you wouldn't simply take my word in the first place is beyond me, but -"

"Well you could have just gotten lucky, dear."

Squire Loontwill gained a subtle dour look that said he suspected he didn't compare to the first husband, and drowned his silent sorrow in more deviled eggs.

"Well, now you have two testimonies, and that should be enough on such a ridiculous and _inappropriate_ matter as this."

Mrs. Loontwill looked at Lyall, then at Alexia and nearly snorted. Lyall figured by her behavior and her breath that she was a lightweight. "Well, he's a man, Alexia."

"I'm also three hundred years old, Mrs. Loontwill." Lyall said, clutching his hands tighter behind his back.

Mrs. Loontwill cocked her head at him before nodding slowly, like a small child. A long pause and three watercress sandwiches in the Squire's mouth later, she said, "well, alright then. I suppose I can't deny three hundred years experience. I guess you're more than lucky, Alexia dear."

Alexia gave a very self satisfied puff of air from her nostrils and nodded. "I am, Mama." She looked at the clocked. "Are you going to stay for dinner?"

"Hm, no, I don't think so. We have a call too attend too in the morning and need to start home now so we can get some sleep. Terribly un-fashionable, we have to be around at practically eleven in the morning. Can you believe it? But, then again, I suppose that's what you get from landed gentry. But it was nice talking too you dear, glad too see all is well and we aren't completely excommunicated from your life."

She rose, Piggy Loontwill - as Lyall found himself thinking of him - following suit, each with a jacket on their arm. Piggy Loontwill attempted to brush off egg and breadcrumbs from his front subtly, but just smeared yolk in little specks all over his waistcoat. Lyall had reason to believe he was slightly intoxicated as well, but couldn't smell over Mrs. Loontwill's perfume.

"Yes, yes, good to see you too Mama." Alexia rose and saw her mother out, coming back too finish her tea and look disdainfully at the empty tea trolley. "Thank you, Professor. I know that was terribly awkward and rude, but I suppose you could tell she wasn't all right, if you get my meaning."

"I certainly do, Lady Alpha."

She sipped the rest of her tea and set the cup down. "You may carry on, Professor, thank you."

Lyall nodded once, and walked out to the hall. There Biffy leaned with his backside against a table, arms crossed, a cheeky smirk on his face. Alexia, though she tread lightly, could be heard sneaking up to the wall beside the door. The Lady Alpha had gotten rather good at sneaking around like such, and when she wasn't weighed down by a developing fetus that resembled a watermelon shoved under her dress, sometimes even Lyall couldn't hear her.

"So, three hundred years of experience with werewolves, eh, old boy?" Biffy waggled his eyebrows.

"Oh please, do get your mind out of the gutter, pup." Lyall said, whacking his shoulder. He knew Alexia was listening in and said at a volume not suspicious, but not hard for her too hear, "I just said that too end an argument that I didn't want any part in in the first place. My testimony has no merit whatsoever."

As silently as a woman of Alexia's girth could, she slipped away from the wall and somewhere towards the side door.

Biffy snorted with a grin and then walked beside the Professor up the stairs. Near the top he whispered, "Does it really hold no merit, Professor?"

Lyall let a small smile creep unto his lips. "Oh no, it does. I'm just not going to give our dear Lady the satisfaction of having that part of me figured out. Least, not yet."

Lyall might have imagined it, but Biffy seem to relax.

They reached Lyall's small, circular room and resumed their positions; Biffy on Lyall's ancient, over-sized bed that had been there since the original Earl of Woosley, and Lyall at his banged, battered, but neat desk. Biffy crossed his legs and spread a folder of this and that out across them, pen in hand.

"Any particular reason you're playing your little game with the Lady, Professor?" Biffy questioned, a hint of his Akeldama drone leaking through with his carefully casual tone.

Lyall paused in his scribbling. A little blue journal, not much bigger than his hand and whose edges were worn and frayed and dog-eared from countless re-readings, rested against him in his waistcoat pocket.

"There's a time for everything, Biffy." He replied, then continued scribbling.


	2. Channing and the Treacle Tarts

**Here's the next chapter. I hope y'all enjoy and again, if you liked the previous and this one, don't hesitate to comment or favorite! It's much appreciated and one of the reasons I keep writing. Love too know what you think. ^^**

 **Characters and such belong to Gail Carriger unless otherwise unrecognized too be hers. Do not repost or copy. :3**

* * *

The next night there was a wail from the kitchens. Channing and Lyall, who had just stepped out the back door to head to the fields for some combat practice, looked at each other and sighed.

Alexia Maccon was glaring at the cook, hands in fists, tears brimming in her eyes. Biffy was off too the side looking like he might start crying too, and the cook was cowering behind his counter laden with various meats and otherwise for that nights dinner.

"What do you _mean_ there is no more _treacle tart?!_ " Alexia demanded, stamping her foot. "I want _treacle tart!_ "

"W-Well, m'Lady," The cook was gripping a bushel of celery against his chest as if it would protect him from an angry, pregnancy hormone fueled blow, "We ran out y-yesterday, when you had the last of it for afternoon tea, and I haven't had the chance to send -"

"Haven't had the chance?! You've had plenty of chance!" She stomped her foot again as a few tears spilled over and down her cheek. "I _need_ treacle tart _now!_ "

Biffy looked at Lyall and Channing desperately, hands clutched behind his back. Lyall stepped forward, putting a hand lightly on Alexia's shoulder. The mortality that overtook him made him look as tired as he felt. It always disturbed Channing too see him like that. The creases around his eyes, the indentation between his eyebrows. Worse still was the new creases and lines since he'd last seen him like that, a some twenty years ago, with a very similar Italian.

"My Lady, please calm down, I-"

"Calm _down?!_ But this is a travesty! No treacle tart, not a nip, not a crumb! And he says he can't make it either! I _cannot_ be calm in a catastrophe like this!" She looked at him and whined, "I _need_ it."

Professor Lyall sighed, then looked at Channing. Channing quirked an eyebrow, though he should have known by now what would be said next. "We can get you some from a bakery in town, my Lady." Lyall offered, "it would be a bit of a wait as you know, but you would get it."

Channing scowled at the Lyall, who flicked his head to the Major to give him a wicked grin and then turned back to Alexia looking utterly placid.

Alexia sniffled, looking at him and then taking out her handkerchief and dabbing her eyes and nose. The cook loosened his grip on the celery before slowly lowering it too his cutting board, though he kept a hand on it just in case. "Could you?"

"Yes m'Lady, we could. Again, it would be a bit of a wait with the travel time between here and town, as I'm sure you understand?"

Alexia nodded, blowing her nose. "O-Of course I understand, Professor. But I will get it?"

"Yes madam, you will get your treacle tart."

Alexia nodded, mollified by the promise of her favorite sweet, and tucked away her handkerchief and looked at the cook. "Could you please send a tea tray too the library? Assam would be lovely, thank you."

The cook nodded and watched the lady of the house leave, still sniffing with her prominent nose, one hand on her stomach.

"Thank you, boys." He said, exhaling with relief. "I thought I was going too loose a hand there."

"Eh, probably a forearm." Channing made a cutting gesture at his elbow, and the cook didn't look the least bit comforted.

"We'll get it all handled, Cook. Your appendages are safe," Lyall assured, lightly shoving Channing towards the door.

"For now," Channing muttered, grinning mischievously.

Biffy rolled his eyes and gave Channing a far less light shove out the door.

It was then that Lyall led the three men to the front door. He took a bag from beneath his coat where it was hung and shook it a bit before handing it to Channing.

"That should carry about a half dozen treacle tarts. It'll give Cook enough time to get the ingredients to make more."

Channing gave him an indignant look. As always, it was him to do what Lyall had suggested. "You're faster than me, you should do it."

"Oh, Channing, Channing," Lyall tsked. _He's been hanging around that bloody canary too much._ "I may be faster, but you're the Gamma, and I'm the Beta, and I do not wish to strip myself of my clothing and go on a trot too London."

"Oh, golly! You, Mr. Beta, can go buggar yourself!" Channing snapped while undoing his cravat. Lyall grinned in his very annoying, very Lyall-ish way. He'd had far more fun than was proper making the young Gamma cater too the Lady Alpha, especially in the later months of her pregnancy. Channing ripped off his jacket and undid his waistcoat, glad that he'd taken the bite before his old man could force him to marry some chit and spawn a brood too carry on the family name. Experiencing it second-hand from Alexia Maccon was more than enough.

When his skivvies had been removed, Biffy made no move to hide his appreciative full body look over. "My, my, my, Major, aren't you ...well equipped."

Channing gave a disgusted snort and wrenched the bag from Lyall, who had held it while he undressed. "Go buggar yourself, Biffy. In fact, you two buggar each other, you prats."

Biffy laughed and seemed like the idea pleased him, while Lyall slapped a hand to his forehead and sighed, a light tint across his cheeks. "Just go get the tarts, you tosser."

"Aye, aye, Captain Arsehole!" Channing gave a mock salute and then shifted, his blonde hair crawling down his back, back arching as his bones broke and reformed and his pretty face elongated and molded into that of an equally pretty white wolf with startling blue eyes. He shook himself, adjusting the bag so it was in front of one lupine shoulder and behind the other, and then darted out the door when Lyall opened it.

* * *

Channing ran all the way from Woosley until he reached London proper. The miles over damp fields and soggy road left him muddy from his paws to his elbows. The crisp night air stung his eyes and he really wished he'd just taken the Woosley carriage, but wolfing was slightly faster, and only slightly less convenient. Though it became substantially more inconvenient when Channing reached an alleyway maybe a block from the pastry shop and realized that he hadn't brought a greatcoat. Or a cloak, or much anything else.

He wiggled off the bag in the hope that Lyall had stored a coat there, but to no avail.

He suspected the absence of a coat wasn't entirely unintentional.

At a loss, Channing grabbed the bag in his mouth and trotted the block to the primarily supernatural catering pastry shop - the _Midnight Delights_ \- and nudged the door open with his muzzle. Inside it smelled overwhelmingly wonderful, with bonbons and chocolate filtering through the air, danced upon by blueberry, strawberry, and sugared roses. Through the glass display case Channing could see a dozen treacle tarts laid upon wax paper and stepped to the line, behind two other patrons that smelled of vampire drone. The woman of the two looked over and gave an amused upturn of her lip and waved with her fingers. The man ignored him while handing over a number of pence in exchange for a cone filled with small frosted pies.

"Have a lovely evening!" The woman at the counter called after them as they left, then looked forward to serve the next customer before furrowing her brow. She turned her head from the left too the right, and then leaned over the counter a bit too look out the door. All the while Channing questioned her eyesight, considering he was the only muddy, snow white wolf in the pastry shop. "How strange ... Mumsy, I could have sworn I heard the bell ring, but there's no one here."

"Have you looked down?" A voice called from behind a stack of boxes.

The girl did so, and jumped. "It's a doggy, Mumsy!" She squealed, running around the display case to Channing, who really didn't take to being called a doggy by a chit. She came in front of him and then dropped too her knees, smoothing her apron and bustle so she wasn't such a mess and started petting Channing. Channing wouldn't have admitted it out loud, but it was quite pleasant, especially when she started scratching behind his ears. It wasn't very widely known that werewolves were fond of scratching behind the ears. Almost as fond as they were of belly rubs.

A matronly woman came from behind the boxes and paused, watching the girl and Channing - who was getting what he thought was a well deserved belly rub. He had run all the way there from Woosley, after all.

"Oh Mumsy, isn't he cute? He's such a big dog! But so pretty, aren'tcha boy? Yes, such a pretty boy!" She made a bunch of noises kin to baby talk and gave a nice hardy rub to Channing's belly. He lolled out his tongue and looked at the matron, who seemed to be physically holding back her laughter.

"Um ... Molly?"

"Yes?" The girl stopped the belly rub - much to Channing's chagrin - and looked at her mother.

"That's a werewolf, not a doggy."

The girl looked blank. "What?"

Channing, being a bit of a comedic prat, took the opportunity too shift form. The shift was quick and quiet enough that by the time the girl looked back, Channing was laying on his back on the ground, his nether regions covered by the bag he'd brought with him.

The chit squeaked and covered her mouth. Channing winked, crossed one leg over the other and put his hands behind his head, flexing his pecks. "You're welcome too keep petting, sweetheart."

In response the young woman screamed and ran out the front door.

Channing shrugged, looking up at the ceiling. "Or not."

The matron leaned over, looking down at him. "Hello, Major. Did you come into my shop just to harass my daughter, or did you have intent to purchase goods as well?"

"Hello Mrs. Crow, and I didn't intend to harass your daughter. A hilarious situation just presented itself, and I took advantage."

She nodded and walked back behind the counter. Channing got too his feet and watched as Mrs. Crow loaded half the trey of treacle tart into separate little boxes, and then loaded all those boxes in one big box and put said box into his bag.

"How did you know?" He questioned, taking the bag back and putting it over his shoulder. Mrs. Crow tucked a few stray graying hairs behind her ears and turned her back to the werewolf.

"Soon as I saw you'd come in as a wolf, I knew you'd forgotten a jacket. And I figured that since you'd been in such a hurry you'd forgotten something to cover yourself with, it must have to do with the Lady Alpha. And anything that involves my shop and the Lady Alpha usually involves treacle tart, especially in her condition."

"You're a blessing, Mrs. Crow."

Mrs. Crow turned around and smiled. "You're just lucky I was working tonight. She had an odd sort of smile, in the way that it intensified her prettiness to a striking level, even in her aging state. Channing had met her on several occasions, both in and outside Midnight Delights. She'd married a loner below her class some years ago, but that was all he knew. That and she had three daughters, all of which she'd sent to a finishing school somewhere out in the moors.

She was a peculiar woman, but just peculiar enough for Channing not to pry. Everyone had their secrets, and hers could remain so far as Channing was concerned.

Before he went out the door Mrs. Crow handed him an incomplete evening paper wrapped around some sort of pastry. He thanked her and exited, finding the paper to be the stocks section and the pastry to be a creme filled doughnut. Absolutely delighted Channing sat down at a nearby bench. When he bit into the doughnut he was surprised that the creme had a bit of a citrus taste too it, and settled down to read the stocks and eat his treat. Lyall could deal with a squawking Alexia a few minutes more.

Unknown to Channing, a group of vampires were nearby. It is commonly known that citrus is to vampires as formaldehyde is to werewolves; extremely intoxicating. What is not commonly known is that after vampires reach a certain level of toxicity, they become ravenous for more, their sense of smell heightened an astronomical amount while their ability to walk a straight line is depleted. This group of vampires that were walking down the street opposite Major Channing had all had a sack of oranges each and were stumbling like toddlers and whooping like Oxford freshmen.

And these intoxicated, citrus hungry, super-sensitive-smelling vampires detected citrus on the breath of an unsuspecting werewolf eating a creme filled doughnut and reading the stocks on the other side of the road.

Channing smelled old, dead blood at the end of his doughnut and looked upwards as he licked his lips. There was six of them at least, all crouched on the roof of a tailors shop like hounds, salivating, grins inhumanly large.

" _Ciiiiitruuuusssss!_ " They hissed unanimously.

Channing quickly started running.

Bloody animals! He thought, gritting his teeth as the sound of dress shoes slapping on wet stone followed him. He jumped and launched himself from the fence around Hyde Park. He heard a thunderous crash and glanced behind to see the vampires had simply mowed down the metal barricade and continued bounding after him un-phased.

"Ciiiiiitruuussss!" They hissed again, one bouncing ever closer to Channing.

The air bit at his exposed nether regions harshly. The bag around his chest swung in the wind, and he hoped fervently that the treacle tarts were alright. If he came back to Woosley and Lady Maccon wasn't happy with slightly abused treacle tart, he was going to get an earful from Conall, possibly followed by a good whack upside the head, because he certainly wasn't coming to London again tonight, or the night after. Screw bloody London, it could buggar itself.

He leaped out of Hyde Park, where the vampires again plowed down the fence, and headed down the nearest street. He would have shifted by now, but even the minuscule affect on his speed might let the citrus crazy bloodsuckers behind him take a chunk out of his shoulder, or leg, or neck, or whatever they were aiming for. His face more than likely; that's where the doughnut had gone. He shivered at the thought of them savaging his face, tearing up his cheeks and nose and biting on his jaw. He rounded a corner and decided too shift soon as he made it past the line of houses here; he'd be close enough to the line between London proper and country too beat the tethers of the beasts.

While this was occurring Mrs. Loontwill had gone out too sip some wine without her husband's knowledge on the front porch and watch the flies buzz around the streetlamps. Then a naked Major Channing Channing of the Chesterfield Channing's went running by her home a breakneck speed, manhood certainly not in a comfortable position in the chill night air, pursued by a half dozen vampires creepily hissing, "Ciiiiistruuussssss!"

She decided the wine wasn't the best idea that night and threw it into a potted plant and retreated indoors.

After what felt like a century Channing reached the exit out of London that led to Woosley and shifted mid-stride. The vampires attempted to follow but seemed to all trip simultaneously and land on their backs. Deserve it, drunken whores, Channing thought smugly. He was more than glad he'd gone the werewolf route; vampires might have more social standing, but werewolves were free. Not to mention they could be soldiers, and there was very little else Channing liked as much as being a soldier.

* * *

When Channing approached Woosley a some two hours later, tired, muddier than he'd been in a long while with a bag strapped to his heaving chest full of a ridiculous pastry that had cost him a whole lot more trouble than it was worth, Lyall was waiting. Sat on the porch steps with a tea tray ready and a greatcoat folded neatly beside him, he nearly smirked when Channing approached. He took the bag from him and opened it up, taking out the box and checking the smaller ones within.

"Not a dent. Surprising, considering you're the courier."

Channing growled as if too say, _you're the one that sent me on the job._

Lyall shrugged and stood, taking the tarts inside. Channing shifted and put on the greatcoat. Alexia's squeal of elation could be heard from the library at the other end of the manor. _Crazy woman._ Channing sat down and poured himself a cup of the Earl Grey Lyall had set out, adding two lumps of sugar and a pinch of creme. He'd guzzled that one down and made himself a second by the time Lyall came back.

"The mistress is satisfied." He informed, taking most the rest of the creme and stirring his tea.

"Thank God. I can't wait until Conall gets back, that was madness."

"Well of course it was, you didn't bring a coat." Lyall grinned.

"Prick." Channing slurped from his teacup. Biffy poked his head out of the front door.

"Lady Alpha says she's got a craving for bonbons now, and cook doesn't have the stuff to make that either. She wants you too go fetch them."

Channing stared at Biffy dead in the eye, a feeling of dread falling to his toes as rage bubbled towards his scalp.

Biffy beamed, grabbed a sugar cube, and popped it in his mouth. "Just kidding! She says thank you!" And he slammed the door.

"The little bloody prat!" Channing clenched the teacup hard enough to shatter it and glared down at his tea and glass covered lap. "I'll skin that pup. Skin him and hang the pelt in the parlor!"

Lyall rolled his eyes, shaking his head and tsking while pouring Channing another cup of tea. "So much for the dramatic. If I didn't know better, I'd suggest you start treading the boards on the weekends."

"And I'd suggest you open a flower shop." Channing took the tea and sipped, exhaling deeply. "Or maybe you should try selling hats with Sir Prancer McCanary over yonder."

"I'd much rather sell waistcoats if I'm too enter a trade."

Channing huffed, leaning against the railing of the porch stairs. A light breeze ruffled the grass surrounding Woosley, making it resemble silver waves in the moonlight. "I thought you were born a baker?"

Lyall sighed. Channing could see behind the useless spectacles that he was imagining a time he would never see, and never know. One personal too Lyall, that drew a saudade weight to his face and dim light too his eyes. "And reborn a professor, Channing, as you were reborn a soldier."

"I was born a nobleman, became a soldier, reborn a better soldier, and I'll die the best soldier I possibly could be."

Lyall shrugged. "Whatever you say, Major. I'm going inside." Lyall rose and picked up the tea tray. Channing swiped the teapot and laid his back against the railing, facing east.

Lyall said nothing and left with the tray.

Channing sat there for three or so hours, drinking the tea down to the dregs, resting his eyes, and thinking about nothing in particular. Sometimes about the treacle tart, others his mind wandered to Biffy, and Lyall, and Conall and Alexia and the whole lot of Woosley. Once in awhile the thought of a sculpture he'd left at home a lifetime ago would cross his mind, but it was only ever there a second.

As when the sky began to turn red, then orange woven with pink, Lyall came out. He leaned against the rail and crossed his arms. His spectacles were at the very tip of his nose, and his face was unreadable.

The sun peeked over the horizon. Hesitantly, it began to rise. Channing hadn't seen it like this in decades, inching upwards. Hesitating, jumping a little higher. Letting the colors around it spread and lighten until they were vibrant hues of orange and pink and yellow. He'd never given it the time it deserved.

His skin began to tighten as it climbed higher to the sky, the vibrant colors that welcomed it dispersing. His eyes stung. His hands ached. But it was worth the pain too see the glowing orb rise fully into the sky and set the world alight with rich color, and bring to life everything within it.


	3. Biffy and the Sheep

**Last chapter! If anyone wishes to see more, PM me or comment! Also I love any favorites or comments and welcome them enthusiastically and thank you all in advance. :3**

 **Parasol Protectorate - Gail Carriger**

 **Story - Mine do not repost or copy.**

* * *

Sunday came and all the men gave a simultaneous sigh of relief upon the realization that their Alpha was due home within the next twenty-four hours. Despite the awkward Mrs. Loontwill conversations that had occurred and Alexia's mad desire for treacle tarts, they had survived thus far without major incident - though Channing would argue that his experience in London was a major incident caused by Lyall's decision too be a prat and not pack him a coat.

"It isn't my fault you were in proximity of a gaggle of drunk vampires with a citrus laced pastry, Channing." Lyall said dismissively as he looked at jars of sheep embryos in various stages of development. The three men were gathered in the converted hunters shack a few miles behind Woosley that Lyall had claimed as his laboratory sometime in the reign of the second Woosley - before the one that went mad. He'd become established there due too an accident that occurred when the scientist accidentally mixed liquid chlorine and ammonia together and caused the destruction of two rooms outside the dining hall.

Biffy often tried to weasel out of him the particulars, like why he was mixing mysterious ingredients in the middle of Woosley in the first place, but Lyall never said a word.

"Well, no, but if I'd had a coat I wouldn't have taken so long in the shop and could have been done before they showed. Or-"

"Nor is it my problem," Lyall continued while writing down something in a notebook, "that you're an irresponsible child that can't even be bothered to check if he packed a coat so he wouldn't flash all of London."

"Well it isn't like all of London minded," Biffy said playfully, sitting on the desk which Lyall had his jars laid out.

"Shut up, you prancer." Channing rolled his eyes. "Remind me again why were out here in your little sheep-fetish shack, Randolph?"

Lyall rolled his eyes so far back Biffy expected them too roll straight out of his head. "I do not have a sheep fetish, Channing. Besides the fact that I believe we're all doing the same thing; avoiding Alexia."

"Here, here." Biffy nodded. He didn't oppose the Lady Alpha's company. In fact he quite enjoyed it, especially when it involved lengthy conversations of the latest fashions and hair styles. The woman knew nearly as much of what was going on as Lord Akeldama had, though without his frivolous tastes. But she could be a bit draining, especially in her state. She was usually pestering one of the three on one subject or another, though it was most often himself or Professor Lyall. Sometimes he thought she made up things to be frustrated about so she could yell out her anger that couldn't be directed at the fetus making her life an uncomfortable nightmare.

Either way the group often found themselves finding excusable locations too be that weren't too far away if the Lady really needed them - she could yell loud enough too be heard in London, nearly - but far enough so that her angry, hormonal complaints weren't constantly tossed upon their ears. Channing gave a shrug that said he agreed and continued to watch Lyall. After making a good deal of notes he put the jars back up in order, among other preserved parts of sheep reproductive organs. There were other shelves dedicated too other parts of preserved sheep - and even one counter that held an entire lamb. It was a very strange collection, fitting to Lyall's very strange degree.

How one came to have a degree in sheep reproduction, or _want_ a degree in sheep reproduction, Biffy didn't think he'd ever know. When he asked Lyall, he's simply shrugged and said, "I like sheep."

The response was a bit concerning in the context of his degree, but Biffy figured he literally just loved the animal. Some people loved dogs, some loved cats, and then there was Lyall, who loved sheep.

As he was putting up a jar containing an almost completely developed sheep fetus, Lyall's eyes got very wide and he shoved the jar into place and flung open the lab door, walking briskly out like a gentlemen late for the theater.

"What's buzzing at his arse?" Channing wondered aloud before following.

Biffy followed, glaring at the crooked bow in Channing's ponytail. _Really, can't even be bothered too make sure it's set right? Tsk, tsk, Major._ Biffy was about to invade the man's privacy and redo the bow as they walked, but was stopped by the sight of Lyall next to a delivery carriage, where two men were unloading a medium sized crate from the back and onto the ground.

He'd never seen the professor look so excited. Lyall seemed resigned to a single expression with minute alterations for varying emotions, which was often little more than a twitch of the lips upward or a flash of a frown - or a wicked grin before he gave Channing some sort of friendly vexation. But as he watched the men unload the crate, Biffy was graced with the glimpse of a very real, very large smile on Lyall's lips.

So he ignored Channing's atrocious hair ribbon and jogged over, reaching Lyall as Alexia began too waddle out the front door curiously.

"What is it?" He asked, looking down at the professor. Lyall looked up, still sporting the very real smile, and then signed the appropriate papers from the delivery men before they carried on. He subdued his grin when Alexia came to stand on his other side, but he was still very much smiling.

"This is a package I've been waiting for for a very long time." He said, casually picking out the nails holding down the lid with his nails. Biffy put his hands on his hips and watched. If he knew the professor as well as he thought he did - and he thought he knew him reasonably well - this had something too do with sheep.

"Is this it?" Channing asked, coming up nonchalantly and tossing away the lid when Lyall had removed all the nails.

"It is!" Lyall replied. Biffy and Alexia shared a look of confusion, then looked back at the box, which was filled with sawdust.

Lyall began dusting it away, revealing a glass top with something animal inside it, before pausing and looking at Alexia. "My Lady, this may interfere with your delicate sensibilities. What is in this box is, to be quite honest, a freak of nature."

"Well, then we shall have something in common, Professor. Go ahead and unveil whatever has got you grinning like that."

Lyall seemed to not be able to help himself and grinned again. He and Channing both ripped off the sides in silent agreement, a sort of communication Biffy admired, and the sawdust poofed out in a cloud.

What was revealed was, indeed, a freak of nature and, as Biffy had suspected, a sheep.

"Why, that has two heads!" Alexia exclaimed, quite nearly shrill, before leaning forward much as she could and staring. "Fascinating."

Biffy stepped closer and crouched down too get a good look at the creature. The moonlight shined directly through its glass encasing, framing what had too be the most fully developed two-headed sheep in the world. Biffy had seen two headed animals at many a freak show, and had even found a two-headed snail as a child that he kept as a pet and named Sansnalio, but he'd never seen an animal with as fully developed heads for them too have two full developed necks as well.

Each head looked a different direction and were slightly smaller than one average sheep head, but otherwise could have been mistaken for perfectly normal sheep heads had they not been on the same body. Another detail he noticed was that the markings were unlike any other sheep he'd seen; the legs were mostly black, and the underbelly was as well, leading up too some strange markings around the mouth and above the eyes that gave it an almost badger-mask appearance, and this went for both of the heads.

Lyall inspected the creature carefully a moment before standing up and clapping once. "It's perfect. Gentlemen, and lady, I present too you one of the rarest creatures on our planet: A fully two headed badger-faced Welsh Mountain sheep. One of the rarest breeds of sheep in the empire, and quite possibly the world."

Fitting name, Biffy thought, amused.

"Heh, he's one ugly little bastard, that's for sure!" Channing said good-naturedly, before catching a sharp look from Alexia and coughing into his hand. "Apologies, m'lady."

Alexia only gave a nod but straightened herself up, rubbing her back. "This is quite interesting, Professor. How did you come to acquire it?"

"Some fortunate connections and a good deal of pecuniary investment, Lady Alpha. I have an old friend from before I joined Woosley who works as a Shepard in Wales, one of the few that has a flock of these rare beauties, and he sent me a picture of this one and told me he was thinking of selling her, upon her death, to a university. I instead asked him if he might sell her to me, so I matched the university's price and after she died not too long ago she was shipped."

"Ah." Alexia nodded, looking at the creature awhile longer. "Well, enjoy it, Professor, for whatever reason you procured it." And then she waddled off.

"I'm glad you were able to acquire this, Lyall." Biffy said, cocking his head. "I think she needs a name."

"'Bastard of Nature?'" Channing suggested. Lyall whacked his arm and picked up the glass cube like it was nothing and held it above his head. The three started back too his lab.

"'Fluffy'?" Biffy suggested.

"Lil' Ugly?" Channing said.

"Flopsy!"

"Freak show."

"Cottontail!"

"Sir Fluffybutt."

Biffy snorted. "Channing, did you not listen? It's a lady sheep."

"Alright then, _Madam_ Fluffybutt."

"Enough, you two!" Lyall sighed like an over-exerted father, then maneuvered through the doorway and set down his two-headed creature next to the perfectly normal preserved lamb. "How about this: you each name one head?"

"Alright!" Biffy agreed.

Channing tapped the glass nearest the right head, leaving a smudge. "That is Madam Fluffybutt."

Biffy paused a moment, taking the time to think up a perfectly proper name for the left head of a two headed sheep. "Seniorita del Cottontail."

Lyall looked at them both oddly before shaking his head, but he did write down the names and which head they belonged to and stuck the paper between the wooden base an the glass cube. "There, then. Now they are named."

Biffy clapped. "Oh, how wonderful!"

Channing chuckled and resumed his previous position before Madam Fluffybutt and Senorita del Cottontail had arrived. Biffy sat on the counter next to the new member of Lyall's collection, and the professor himself happily began making notes on the state of the preserved creature and what could have possibly led too such a perfect mutant.

* * *

It was many hours later, just after supper, when Biffy, Professor Lyall, and Alexia Maccon were all gathered in the front parlor for a game of bridge, that Rumpet entered the aforementioned parlor with a well dressed gentleman behind him.

"Rumpet? Who is this?" Alexia gave a displeased narrowing of her eyes at the fellow. Biffy glanced him over, getting from the square cut of his waistcoat and the fact that the tie of his cravat was a simple one, but the fabric was an expensive silk, that he was a prosperous academic of some sort. His hypersensitive werewolf smelling caught a woodsy cologne, inexpensive pomade, and a lack of food on his breath suggested he'd come there in a hurry.

"A Mister Callus, Lady Maccon. He said he was here with an inquiry to Professor Lyall."

The gentleman stepped forward, removing his top hat. Biffy thought he had a pretty face, but his nose was crooked in two spots and took up more of his face than was proper. It might have been even bigger than Lady Maccon's. "I apologize for not sending a card," The gentleman said.

Alexia looked at Lyall, who gave the slightest movement of his shoulders to suggest he didn't know the gentleman while also not taking his eyes off of him. "Mister Callus. I'm afraid I'm not familiar with you."

"I'm a curator at the Natural History Museum in South Kensington, Professor. I - well, I got word of the specimen you received and was hoping you might grace me with a look at the lovely creature?" The man gave a nervous smile which, from Biffy's semi-sideways view of his face, looked malicious.

"Oh, well of course!" Lyall looked at Alexia and stood. "My apologies Lady Maccon, I will not be long. Go ahead and continue the game without me."

Alexia gave a sniff but allowed him to leave. "Terribly rude, that Callus fellow, calling like this. It's one thing if you know the person, but to come for a complete stranger? That's just crass."

"I agree, Lady Maccon. But that two-headed sheep is quite the specimen, and you know how those academic types get when there's some new strange creature about."

Lady Maccon inclined her head. "True, true. Worse than me when I hear of the new shoes out of Paris. And you know how Conall will attest I'm horrible when they do come out."

Biffy nodded. The Lady of Woosley had an affliction when it came to shoes, sometimes even he couldn't help her choose from her vast collection. "I'm very much the same way with cravats, my Lady."

"And the Professor with his waistcoats." She mused while making a move within their game. "Have you noticed how he has a different one every day? I think I've only seen him wear _one_ twice."

"You would be correct, Lady Maccon." Biffy leaned in conspiratorially, keeping his ears attentive so as to avoid saying anything with Lyall in earshot, "he buys a new one every trip to town. _Every. Single. Trip._ "

Alexia raised both eyebrows. " _Every_ one?"

Biffy nodded again. "Even if he's with you or Lord Maccon, m'lady. He'll slip off, as I'm sure you know he's quite capable, and order another. He's dragged Channing in that store so many times, well, I can understand why he's such a sourpuss."

Alexia covered her mouth with her cards and giggled. "Oh _my_."

Biffy grinned and took his turn. "Please don't let him know I told you, Lady Maccon. Much as I love the Professor's blush, I prefer to be in his good graces."

Alexia laughed and then nodded. They continued to play their game until Lyall returned and joined the next round.

"That Mr. Callus wanted to take the specimen to the Natural History museum. Apparently they have a new exhibit on mutant farm animals."

"Did you say yes?" Alexia asked.

Lyall looked boarder line offended, though any emotion quickly disappeared before the lady of the house could read much into it. "Absolutely not. I've waited far too long and it's far too rare. He understood at least; I might allow some of those within my field to observe it after I've gotten all I can." Biffy heard him faintly mumble _maybe_ under his breath after that.

The group played a few rounds of bridge. Channing came in at one point and joined one, but he and Lyall got in such an argument when he lost that he was soon kicked out of the room altogether. Biffy won two games, Alexia three, and Lyall the most at five. The group at this point dispersed. It was about four hours before everyone would be abed; Lyall went to take care of some BUR paperwork, Alexia to read in the library, and Biffy stepped out on the first floor balcony to have a puff on his pipe. The habit was disgusting and almost unbearable with his delicate werewolf nose, but he kept the practice now and again to remind himself he was still human - at least mostly. He'd had to quit snuff - which really upset him - after his transformation, but he could still bear a few puffs of unscented tobacco.

He looked across Woosley's grounds while he puffed. Lord Akeldama would have liked to see the fields. He was more of a city boy - had been since before his transformation, he'd told Biffy. Loved architecture and the sound of people walking on the sidewalks and buggies and carriages going past as the horses whinnied and stamped. But he'd confided once that he did miss the country sometimes.

The rolling expanses of green. Trees that were tall with good sturdy branches that he'd used to climb as a boy, though he'd never been able to reach the top. He'd always been too scared. Too cautious, too demure. That'd changed when he became a drone. He was able to be, well, Akeldama, as a drone, and even more so a vampire.

So while he did miss trees, and the sun, and the fields, Akeldama much preferred to be a vampire, as it was the only way he could truly be Akeldama.

Biffy could feel his chest tightening at the thought of his former master. His throat felt parched and tight around a lump he was struggling to keep down. He was alone, he should be able to cry a little. He was, actually; tears were falling down his cheeks, chill against the eternally youthful skin. But he couldn't make noise. Not a sound. Woosley was too big a pack, with too many senior members that could hear him. And if they heard him crying, there would just be more hushed talk about the poor little pup that couldn't handle himself, and Biffy was tired of hearing it.

He took out his handkerchief and sniffed, dabbing his eyes and wiping his cheeks. Then he held his pipe in his mouth while folding it back up and looked around idly. He turned his head to the right and caught sight of Lyall's lab.

And something else.

It was a carriage. Large wheels, duel doors in the back; the sort made for transporting cargo. Three men were sliding something into the back. One of them had a very large nose framed by the moonlight.

He stared in shock, leaning over the balcony as the men shut the doors and hopped in the front. They started the horses just as Biffy had gained enough sense to try and go after them, dropping his pipe over the balcony and running to the staircase. He hopped over the railing and down into the foyer, landing in front of a very confused Floote. He dismissed the butler and darted out the door and after the men.

The fellows cracked the reins on their horses and the carriage went faster, rumbling and bumping along the road. Biffy kept up with them with his supernatural speed but they sped up again and the carriage jumped and hopped around alarmingly to the point Biffy feigned over-exertion and slowed down. When the men realized he wasn't on their tail anymore they slowed the carriage and continued on.

Biffy stared at the carriage, thinking quickly. He could easily catch up with the carriage as a human, though he was afraid the glass of the two headed sheep would crack when the men undoubtedly sped up. He could try wolfing and tackling them, but it was hard to restrain people as a wolf and he couldn't go mauling the men; it would be unseemly and stain the reputation of the pack. He decided finally to run back to Woosley and find Channing, who was flirting with a maid.

Biffy grabbed Channing's arm, apologized to the maid, and then tugged Channing off.

"What the hell, pup?!" Channing growled, easily shoving the younger pack member from him. Biffy quickly explained his witnessing the filching of Lyall's two-headed sheep - for he was sure it could be nothing else - by the man that had come asking for it earlier.

"Lyall mentioned the Callus man had asked for the specimen for the Natural History museum, but he said no." Biffy finished. He was counting the minutes as they spoke. They had maybe four hours or less until daylight, which Biffy couldn't handle much of. Lyall wouldn't go to his lab again that night - he had all the BUR paperwork to do. But he most certainly would give it a visit before breakfast.

Channing looked surprisingly concerned. Then again it shouldn't have been all that surprising considering he and Lyall were, despite outward appearances, good friends. "They'll probably set it up for the exhibit tomorrow. We'll have to get down there and get the sheep out of town before they realize what's occurred."

"You'll need transportation." Alexia's voice popped out of nowhere. In his perturbation Biffy had neglected to listen for the pregnant preternatural's soft steps. She stood, hands on hips, to the major and Biffy's right. "At this point you can wolf long enough to get to town, but you won't be able to get back. I'll take the Woosley carriage and some of the clavingers. You get the sheep and put it somewhere secure, and then we'll fetch it and bring it back and set it in place while it's daylight."

Channing blinked rapidly, but didn't object to the lady's involvement. The group shared common ground when it came to Professor Lyall; that is to say they all liked him very much and didn't want to make him aware that the prized freak that had made him _smile_ had been stolen by a band of slag curators.

"I do believe Lord Akeldama would both house the sheep and provide us sanctuary until next dusk." Biffy suggested, not entirely because he wished to see his old master again.

"That pink tosser?" Channing huffed. Both Biffy and Alexia reached out and flicked his ears, getting an annoyed grumble.

"I'll send a transmission" Said Alexia to Biffy. "This is a most urgent matter, and he might be comatose by the time you two get there. Now go - you don't have much longer!" Alexia shoved both men towards the staircase, which felt little more than a prod to the werewolves, and aggressively waddled to the areographic transmitter.

Channing and Biffy went out into the night and stripped their clothing. Biffy got scarcely a moment to admire Channing before he shifted into his beautiful snow-white wolf form. He caught the look on Biffy's face and curled his lip.

"Oh goodness, Channing. With your physique? I can't help but feel stinted with how quickly you change. So little time to admire."

Channing growled.

"Mhm, yes I'm aware of your preferences. You gained quite the reputation with a little Indian kitty-cat overseas, last I heard. Rare, her kind. I can understand why you still write. Or perhaps there's a nip of feeling there?"

Channing looked both stunned and murderous but refrained from carnage and instead barked harshly. Biffy, satisfied that Channing now knew he had information on him not even Lyall had - at least, not _yet_ \- began to change. Being still a pup and allover reluctant to change at the best of times, Biffy howled and whined a good deal. He hated the feeling of the fur crawling over his soft skin, his bones breaking and reforming underneath him as his jaw elongated and a tail sprouted from his spine. It was the worse pain a man could stand and still live.

And he had to live it at least once a month.

This time it was not as torturous as usual, since it was voluntary. He was doing it for the dear Professor, and the pain he went through in order to run down to London before the sun rose and steal back a stolen 2 headed sheep named Madam Fluffybutt and Senorita del Cottontail, respectively, was worth it if it prevented the Professor anymore pain than he'd already experienced in his long, long life.

He and Channing then ran as fast as they physically could down to London, then onward through the rain dampened and manure stricken streets to South Kensington. They easily found the Natural History Museum; it was a giant building, the front steps wide and two towers on either side of the mountainous entrance doors.

There was a guard at the door, but it was easy enough to distract him. Biffy started barking a few hundred yards away and, when he wouldn't stop, the man started towards the sound. When he was close enough to him Biffy leaped from an awning where he was crouched and knocked him to the ground, unconscious.

Channing stole the man's key and shifted, opening the door.

They entered, shutting the door behind them, finding themselves immediately in a room with a giant brontosaurus skeleton. The museum had monstrously high ceilings - like the ones of Biffy's childhood cathedral. Though the cathedral's ceilings were a bit higher and decorated in scenes from biblical stories, not carved into an upwards peak that led to a skylight.

They followed the exhibit signs and banners up the stairs and down a few halls, avoiding roaming guards, until they came to the freak show exhibit.

Inside it featured animals with extra limbs, misshapen faces of goats, triple tailed hogs, snakes with split tails, a mouse with a third ear growing between the other two, and then, in the middle, glinting in silver moonlight from the skylight above, was Lyall's two-headed sheep.

Channing grinned. "There she is. Even uglier in the moonlight, the darling." He walked over and lifted the glass cube with one muscular arm, holding it at an angel so it leaned against his shoulder and head, arm wrapped around the bottom.

With Channing now encumbered by a mutant sheep preserved in formaldehyde, the duo exited the exhibit. They didn't get but forty paces before a guard and Callus man rounded the corner and spotted them.

"Thieves!" Callus shouted, Biffy snorting at the irony. Callus and the guard ran forward. Channing started setting down the sheep in order to fight them but Biffy, eager to get the bloody sheep to Akeldama's before sunrise, ran forward and tackled Callus to the ground. When Callus lifted his head and began to sit up, Biffy reared back like a horse and slammed his head to the floor with his paws, knocking him unconscious. The guard, when Biffy turned to him, simply ran away.

"Well, that was anticlimactic." Channing complained as he hoisted the sheep up again. The men exited the museum with no other disturbances. Biffy shifted once outside in order to help Channing tote the sheep, each man holding one side as they ran toward Akeldama's townhouse.

When the infamous, handsome, blonde vampire opened his door, he was dressed for bed. Biffy was stunned he hadn't had Tizzy or any other drone answer the door; the man may have been unconventional and outrageous, and it was not uncommon for him to answer his own door despite his wealth and social status, but answering a door in ones nightgown, loose curls cascading down the back and sporting an amused smirk simply wasn't _done_.

But then again, if it hadn't been done, Akeldama was bound to do it. Without his customary high-heels, Biffy was taller than the Lord by a couple inches, and Channing by several. It had always amused the former-drone how short his master really was. Akeldama was still above average height, but Biffy was above that above, and Channing was above even that.

Akeldama gave the naked pair a painstakingly slow look-over that was obvious admiration of both physiques, then looked at the sheep. "Oh, _my, my, darlings_ , haven't you had a busy night?"

His voice was unusually soft and lacked the higher pitch usually associated with his italics. He was sleepy. Biffy's heart ached at each silken word.

"Yeah, yeah, are you gonna let us in or not, you blasted canary?"

Akeldama laughed airily and covered a small yawn with his hand. Biffy could see the beginnings of dawn on the horizon; Akeldama would be passing out very soon. The fact he was even still awake at this point showed an extraordinary strength of will. Unlike werewolves, vampires appeared dead in sleep. They didn't _feel_ dead necessarily; Biffy could say so from firsthand experience.

But they were rather cold, and the only thing that could wake them up would be something cataclysmic.

"Oh Major Channing, your manners never _do_ improve, do they? I _would_ leave you out here to try and hide from the sun, _but_ my _darling Alexia_ sent me a transmission insisting I let you and Biffy in with your ... _Specimen_. And I certainly can't refuse someone with _your,_ " Akeldama gave a quick look downwards, " _glorious assets_ , so come in, do."

Biffy frowned inwardly. His name didn't feature any adornments anymore. Then again, Akeldama was very obviously doing all he could to stay conscious.

They carried the sheep into Akeldama's drawing room, putting it on the coffee table, heads facing the doorway. Akeldama smiled, the tip of his finger on his lower lip. "Oh, I _do_ hope it gives Tizzy a scare tomorrow night. He does so _hate_ anything with hooves." He yawned behind his hand again. The fluffy calico that, far as Biffy had been able to tell, was as immortal as his master, wandered up and rubbed against Akeldama's legs. Akeldama picked him up, holding the furry fat ball with one arm and petting him.

"You boys have much difficulty procuring this...creature?" His eyes were nearly half lidded. He was staring at the sheep the same way he stared at a playbook for a play he'd never seen before. Biffy could see the gears gently twitching in his head, connecting the sheep to the Professor and thereby connecting other little threads associated with the fox like wolf and filing them away. Biffy yearned to know what he'd concluded with his observation, but no longer being a drone, and considering the state of the vampire, kept his mouth shut for the sake of propriety.

"Not really. It's a good thing no one is very eager to steal old animal bones and mice with three ears." Channing snorted. "Terribly easy."

Akeldama's eyebrows raised up slightly, lips smiling. "I'll keep that in mind, Major." He looked over at Biffy. For a moment the young drone-turned-wolf saw a spark - a dim, sad spark. The hurt sort he'd seen on dozens of people throughout his years that had lost something and could never, ever get it back, even when it was staring them straight in the face, in their very own drawing room. " _Sweet_ Biffy," He said, with just enough affection to show continuing acknowledgment of what they'd once been and hoped to be for a very long eternity, "You know where the spare rooms are."

Biffy swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yes, m'lord. W-Would you be needing assistance upstairs? The sun is practically up."

Akeldama gave a demure smile, shook his head, and then turned around and took heavy, slow steps until he was on the first floor. Biffy listened until he heard him open the door to his room, and then sighed.

"Come along, Channing. I'll show you to a room."

Channing only nodded, keeping the respectable quiet he had taken through Biffy and Akeldama's rather mournful exchange.

And so Biffy led Channing to one of the guest rooms as the sun came up, showing its light under the curtains drawn over every window. He entered another guest room and closed the door, sitting on the bed and staring as the sun crept further and further from underneath the curtains. He heard a knock, followed by the steps of a drone and Alexia's austere tones reaching upwards through the floorboards.

Then he heard Tizzy scream and giggled.

He laid down, still listening as a block of sunlight came to reside in the middle of his floor. When it became obvious that Tizzy had gone back to bed or otherwise and Alexia had gone off with the sheep, Biffy smiled.

Lyall had nothing to worry about.

* * *

The next night Biffy and Channing woke late. Biffy found a set of clothing labeled with his name in Akeldama's script. It was perfectly Biffy from the cut to the color - which was a lovely almost-lavender grey. Or perhaps it was an almost-grey lavender. Either way it fit the young dandy well. He slipped the note into the pocket and then went downstairs.

Channing and he joined Akeldama and the drones for breakfast, though Akeldama only tasted a soup and drank champagne while he chattered with his drones.

Biffy smiled at Tizzy, who put two and two together and gave him a sour look. "How'd you like meeting Madam Fluffybutt and Senorita del Cottontail, Tizzy?"

"Not at all, you horrid man."

Biffy grinned at that and finished the raw steak Akeldama had been kind to provide.

He and Channing hailed a cab and traveled back to Woosley. Upon arrival they found Lyall and Conall returning from his lab.

"Channing! Biffy!" Conall called over in his reverberating baritone, waving. The men waved back and met him and Lyall at the halfway point by the front of Woosley.

"Lord Alpha," Biffy said, doing a bit of a bow and a nod. "Were you able to square things away in Scotland?"

"Aye. Sidheag was eager tae get rid of me once she figured things out." He snorted.

"To be fair, m'lord, you did drink most their formaldehyde." Lyall said while cleaning his spectacles.

"Tha's there own fault. Lachlan shouldn't have challenged me to a drinking contest." By the sound of his voice, Biffy suspected he wasn't quite entirely recovered from said drinking contest. At least he didn't reek of the stuff. There would be no screaming Lady Maccon to deal with. "Alexia's gone for a nap, but she told me you did well, so you get tae live." Conall smirked.

Biffy just smiled and Channing gave a puff of air from his nose in response.

The four men began up the front steps.

"So," Conall began, "anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

"No." Lyall responded, nudging his glasses up on his nose.

"Nope." Channing said, scratching at his cheek.

"It was actually a bit boring." Biffy responded, smiling as he shut the doors behind them.


End file.
